


Issues with Love and Snails

by starlightwalking



Series: A-Spectrum Anthology [12]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Fíli, Conversations about Boundaries, F/M, Gen, Glasses problems, Lost Pet, Romance-repulsion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Fíli is getting sick of all this romance. February is a rough month for an aromantic person, and it's Kíli's anniversary on top of Valentine's Day. His only friend is his pet, but he can't even figure out where it's gone! How do you lose a snail, anyway?





	Issues with Love and Snails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonrunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrunes/gifts).



> Happy (extremely belated) birthday to moonrunes! And thanks to moonrunes and euseevius for helping me figure out what Fili's pet would be!  
> The prompts for this little fic were: Lost pet + Durin boys, Broken glasses + Kiliel, and Necklace + "my aro son" (Fili and/or Legolas; I picked Fili because it would fit better with the story). It was a bit of a challenge putting them all together but I had fun!

"Ooh, what about this one, Fí? Do you think Tauriel would like it?" Kíli asked, dangling a jewel-studded necklace from his hand.

Fíli squinted at the price tag. "She might, but your wallet sure won't."

"Oh." Reluctantly, Kíli put it back. "Too bad. It was pretty."

"What about this one?" Fíli suggested, holding a sensible dragon pendant on a chain.

"Hmm," Kíli contemplated. "Too boring. It's our one-year anniversary, Fíli, it's got to be...extravagant!"

Fíli repressed a sigh. This was pointless. He had his brother had been in the shop for nearly two hours now, having made no progress. He just wanted to go home and watch the newest Netflix show.

"Anniversaries are silly," he retorted. "Get her something she'll actually _wear,_ if you get her anything at all."

"Of course I have to get her _something_ ," Kíli said, shocked. "It's the romantic thing to do!"

This time Fíli really sigh. Romance was silly, he wanted to say, but he knew that was just his personal opinion. He was happy for his brother, he really was, and he genuinely liked Tauriel, but ever since they'd started dating nearly a year previous, he'd felt less and less excited about the amount of romantic shenanigans _he_ kept getting dragged into, whether it was to help one of them plan a surprise or simply hearing Kíli go on and on about how beautiful his girlfriend was.

Being aromantic was hard. Most of the time, Fíli loved it, or at least was at peace with it, but on other days...not so much. And of course, he had to help Kíli plan his anniversary on a romance-repulsed day.

A jewelry store in February was no place for an aromantic. Everywhere he looked, Fíli saw a couple clinging to each other or holding hands or making goo-goo eyes at each other, whether it was in an advertisement or real. Frankly, it was disgusting. He knew he had no place telling other people how to live their lives, and he would never actually confront someone about what was really just a personal problem, but it still bothered him. At least Kíli and Tauriel weren't a Valentine's Day couple. Their anniversary was February 26.

"Alright, Kíli," he said with more patience than he felt like giving. "But really, make a decision soon. We've been in here forever."

All around were the stifling pinks and reds of Valentine's Day decorations. He wanted to go home and take a nap, or hide in his (green) room and scroll through tumblr, and maybe feed his beloved pet snail, Smaug.

"You know, if you waited until the 15th to pick this stuff out, it would be cheaper," he pointed out half an hour later when Kíli was still waffling over necklaces.

Kíli didn't listen and eventually walked out of the store with a tree pendant on a golden chain.

It _was_ pretty. Fíli was sure Tauriel would love it, and Kíli was very pleased with himself. But no one was more happy than Fíli to leave the shop and go home to take care of his snail. Who needed romance when you had animals?

* * *

On February 26, Kíli went over to Tauriel's palce and gave her the necklace.

Tauriel loved it. She gasped when she saw it and immediately put it on, before taking it off again to better stare at it.

"Oh, thank you, Kíli!" she exclaimed, giving him a warm kiss.

Kíli beamed and didn't regret a single moment spent in the story, no matter Fíli's complaints. It was all worth it to see Tauriel's smiling face.

"Here, let me help you put it on," he said, but Tauriel declined.

"It's easier if I do it, having glasses," she explained. "Here—hold them for a sec."

The glasses were green on the inside, black on the outside, and Kíli didn't know if she was cuter with or without them on.

Once she was wearing both her glasses and her new necklace, Tauriel pulled out her own gift for him: a hand-drawn portrait of the two of them, walking together in a snowy forest.

"It's of our first date, when I took you to that little wood by my parents' house," Tauriel said shyly. "I'm better at digital art, but—"

"It's perfect," he said, beaming, and it truly was the most marvellous piece of art he had ever seen in his life.

Kíli took Tauriel to a romantic candlelit dinner in a small restaurant by the lakeshore. The dark-haired waiter gave them a free dessert once he found out it was their anniversary, and Kíli felt so good that nothing in his life seemed capable of going wrong.

After dinner, he took Tauriel to his place. Fíli was out with some friends; he had no intentions of hanging around them on a date night. Kíli spared a passing thought worrying about his brother—lately, he'd been moody and grumpier than usual, especially when he mentioned Tauriel. But he wasn't about to let that ruin tonight, and he was quickly caught up only in the sight and feeling of his incredible Tauriel.

They watched a rom com together, curled up on the couch. Kíli ran his hands through Tauriel's hair, perfectly content. When the movie ended, he couldn't even remember the main character's name. He'd been thinking about Tauriel the whole time.

"I could lie here forever with you," he murmured.

She sighed happily and squeezed his hand. "Me too."

"You know, when I first met you, you terrified me," he admitted. "You were so pretty and smart and _way_ out of my league—"

"Oh, please," Tauriel laughed. "You were way out of _my_ league, with your athleticism and musical talent and a career already lined up for you! Not to mention how kind and handsome you are!"

"Well, I _was_ scared," he said, glowing with happiness after her compliments.

"Yes, I could tell." Tauriel snorted in laughter. "That's why _I_ asked _you_ out." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Ow," he said as her glasses jabbed into his shoulder.

"Ow!" she repeated as the glasses squished her face. She took them off and put them on the table next to her. "Glasses! So annoying!"

"You're so cute," he murmured, leaning toward her. "With or without glasses."

Tauriel giggled. "Well, you're cuter when you're not blurry, but I like you even when it's hard to see you."

She met him in a kiss, and Kíli had never been happier.

* * *

Fíli woke up with a headache and a poor attitude. He'd come home late last night, but Kíli and Tauriel had still been there. He'd tiptoed past where they were asleep on the couch and into his room, hoping that he'd wake up and feel better.

It didn't work. His dreams were fragments of confusion, and he felt almost more exhausted after waking up than he did before sleeping.

He got up blearily and went to the bathroom. Once he was a little more awake, he trudged into the kitchen to get some lettuce to feed his snail.

Smaug was the pet he'd had for the longest amount of time. He'd had cats and dogs growing up, but apartment rules didn't allow for those animals. He and Kíli had gotten fish, but they'd all died in a matter of weeks. A snail, even a large one like Smaug, was small enough to keep in tank and easy enough to take care of. Even though he was just a snail, Fíli was fond of the little guy.

Only, Smaug wasn't in his tank.

Fíli frowned, only a little worried at first. Smaug was probably just hiding in some corner or something. He tossed the lettuce in the tank and wandered off.

Ten minutes later, the snail was still not there.

Fíli gently turned over the rocks and plants in the tank. Smaug was truly missing. A trail of slime led up the side of the tank that he hadn't noticed before. As Fíli looked at it, his heart sank.

"How do you lose a freaking snail?" he muttered under his breath as he began to look around his room for any sign of Smaug.

After a half hour search, he was reduced to calling out, "Smaug? Smaug?" even though the little thing was too dumb to understand what it meant, and probably even to hear it. Did snails even have ears?

"Fí? What are you doing?" Kíli asked through a yawn as he walked into Fíli's room.

"Smaug is missing!" he said. "Will you help me look for him?"

"Ew. Gross." Kíli rubbed his eyes. "What if he gets slime all over your stuff?" But he began turning over pillows and looking in drawers.

"I can't believe he's missing," Fíli muttered under his breath.

"What if he just shed his shell and went to look for a new one?" Kíli suggested.

"That's hermit crabs, Kíli, not snails."

After another few minutes, Kíli stopped. "This is pointless," he pronounced. "How are you going to find a snail in this mess? Besides—how do you lose a snail, anyway?"

All of Fíli's frustration boiled over at that point. He was sick of Kíli being in the spotlight, not taking his problems seriously, dragging him into romantic affairs, and not bothering to think of how _he_ might feel. And now he wouldn't even look for Smaug anymore!

"You know what! I'm sick of this!" he exploded. "Fine! Go away! It's just a stupid snail, who cares! _My_ problems don't matter anyway!"

Taken aback, Kíli stammered out, "Fí—that's not what I—"

"I don't care!" Fíli yelled. "Shut up, Kíli, for once in your life!"

As soon as he said it, he regretted it but he was angry. He needed to let it all out, or risk internalizing it until he felt even worse.

"Fíli, are you okay?" he asked.

"No, I'm not 'okay'," Fíli said bitterly.

"What's wrong?"

Fíli sat down on his bed heavily. Kíli sat beside him, ready, at last, to listen.

"It's just..." He sighed, and then let it all spill out: "It's not just the snail, okay, although I am worried about Smaug. I feel like you—you don't listen, or maybe I don't talk enough, or something. You're always having fun, being the center of attention, and I mean I get that too, but lately with Tauriel—"

Kíli stiffened, and Fíli hurried to assure him, "No, no, not like that! She's a great girl and I'm happy for you but—it used to be me and you, y'know? Having fun, pulling pranks, being bros. Now it's me and you and her, or when she's not there that's all you talk about. And on top of that I'm aro. February's bad enough with Valentine's Day but with this too..."

He took a deep breath. "It's hard, Kí. And I don't mean to bother people with my romance-repulsion personal issues, but it affects me, a lot, and...ugh. I feel like we don't have any boundaries for that kind of thing, now that things have changed." He sighed, then said quietly, "I'm sorry for yelling. I didn't mean it, mostly."

When he was done, Kíli pondered his words for a moment. At last, he said slowly, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were having such a rough time...but I should have. I used to notice, after all, but now _I'm_ the one who's making you feel bad, and you don't deserve that."

"Thanks," Fíli mumbled.

"I'll help you look for Smaug," Kíli offered. "You know what—I'll wake up Tauriel, she's still sleeping, and she can help us, and then we'll all talk, okay?"

"Alright," Fíli agreed. His stomach still fizzed with anxiety, but he felt a little better now. "Thanks."

"No. Thanks for telling me," Kíli said firmly.

Tauriel, though she was sleepy for a few minutes after waking up, was happy to help them search and didn't seem to put off by Kíli's sudden lack of (in Fíli's opinion) overly romantic gestures.

"I didn't know you had a pet snail," she commented. "What's its name again?"

"Smaug," Fíli said.

"I'm sure there's a story behind that...?" she prompted while looking under Fíli's bed.

"Well," he began, looking behind a stack of books that had piled up on his desk, "we were _going_ to get a lizard. Uncle Thorin always told us stories of dragons when we were little, and our favorite was about a greedy one named Smaug who loved gold so much he decided to eat it and choked to death."

"Morbid!" Tauriel said.

" _Your_ father told you stories about giant spiders sneaking into your room and eating you," Kíli pointed out.

"True," she conceded. "So why did you end up with a snail instead?"

"Oh, the apartment rules didn't allow for it," Fíli explained. "So we tried fish, and ended up with my snail."

"That sounds—ahh!" Tauriel exclaimed, jumping backwards. She hit the side of her head on the wall, and there was a faint _crack_.

"Tauriel! Your glasses!" Kíli said in dismay.

Indeed, they were broken—snapped right off at the hinge.

"I found Smaug!" she proclaimed. She reached under the bed again and pulled out a little shell, into which Smaug had hidden in fright.

Fíli heaved a sigh of relief. He took the snail from Tauriel and plopped him back into his tank. This time, he draped one of his shirts over the top so Smaug couldn't escape.

"Well..." Tauriel said, staring at her broken glasses. "...I guess I was overdue for a new prescription, anyway."

"I'm sorry," Kíli said sympathetically. "Will you need help paying?"

"Nah, my insurance can cover it," she assured him. She kissed him on the cheek and Fíli coughed pointedly.

"Tauriel..." Kíli sat back down on the bed. Tauriel sat down beside him, listening curiously. Fíli sat on his brother's other side. There wasn't much more room left on the mattress.

"Can we talk?" Fíli asked bluntly. "All three of us?"

Confused, Tauriel nodded. "Is there a problem?"

"Sort of." Fíli sighed. Opening up was hard, especially to someone he didn't know extremely well. "Look. You know I'm aromantic, right?"

"Yeah," Tauriel said.

"Okay. Please don't take this too personally, but you and Kíli..." He paused, trying to figure out how to word this. "I get romance-repulsed sometimes. It's something I have to deal with, usually on my own, but with you two—I trust you enough to...talk about it. You're sort of a cute couple, I guess, but you're pretty darn sappy."

"I'm sorry..." Tauriel bit her lip. "We don't _mean_ to be...I guess I'm not used to having to think about that?"

"We can...tone it down, if you'd like?" Kíli offered.

Fíli felt horrible imposing this on them, but he also felt horrible watching their lovey-dovey b.s. all the time. The fact that they were 100% sincere made it even worse.

"It's up to you," he said frankly, "and I don't mean to be rude—it's _your_ relationship, after all. But yeah. It's draining, coming home to what should be a safe space and still having to deal with romance. I'm not saying you can't be romantic or anything, but if you could keep it more...private, I guess? At least when I'm around?" He made a face. "This sounds absolutely horrible. I'm sorry for making you—"

"Fí, don't be," Kíli said firmly. "Your boundaries are important, too. Honestly, even I think we're a little extra sometimes!" He smiled at Tauriel, but it was one of amusement, not sappy love.

"Truly, it's not that much trouble," Tauriel agreed. "I enjoy spending time with you, too, Fíli, and I'm sorry we..."

"It's not your _fault_ ," he said. "It's no one's fault, really, just my brain and society not mixing too well." He laughed ironically.

"If it ever _is_ an issue, we'll say something," Kíli promised. "And you tell us if we're ever too much."

"Thank you," Fíli said, his guilt mingled with relief. Hopefully, things would be better now.

He noticed Tauriel was wearing the necklace Kíli had gotten her and cracked a smile.

"Nice necklace," he said. "I hope it doesn't break like your glasses did."

Tauriel laughed. "Well, superglue can fix almost anything. I remember this one time, in high school..."

In his shirt-covered tank in the corner, Smaug the snail peeked his head of out his shell. He'd been foiled this time—he needed to create another plot to escape.


End file.
